Catching Sandman
by Shatter Crack
Summary: Murdock threw himself on his bed, face pressed into the cool sheets, and started counting pink sheep. He stopped several minutes later when the sheep began to grow wings and lizard heads. "...just shoot me, please." - An insomniac Murdock drives himself and his environment slowly but surely nuts. Rated T for language.
1. Day - Infomercial Loop

**Author's note:** _This story takes place in movie!verse, some time after the plot with the team now being on the run,_  
_just having started to help out people for a living. (On the other hand, it doesn't really conflict with tv!verse.)_  
_Uh, first-timer in terms of writing fanfiction here, but I sure hope the story is enjoyable nonetheless._

* * *

„Aw, god, whoever invented the shower should be awarded some kind of prize!" Face sighed enthusiastically and threw himself on  
the sofa next to B.A. who was busy watching some football game and only gave a short grunt. Probably to confirm he was somewhat listening.  
"The Peace Nobel Prize for sure.", Hannibal nodded, absently reading the newspaper. "How many wars out there that are fought because of  
children refusing to bathe..."  
"Wha- That's no fair, Bossman!" Hannibal turned his head slightly at the objection and found the pilot shaking his head vehemently.  
"Don't shower for a few months and you'd be the _number one_ walking study for all kinds of micro-organisms, I'm telling you!"  
Face shot him a slightly horrified look. "That's an awful plan buddy-" But he didn't get to say much more as Murdock continued his speech without mercy.  
"And after years, **YEARS**-!" A maniac grin spread on the pilots face as he lowered his voice – most likely to resemble some kind of croaky closet monster  
without access to cough syrup - "After years there will be nothing but a moving clump of green glibber mass with the mission to save the world from  
the evil acts of The Soap!"

"'The Soap'? Is that supposed to be the super intimidating counterpart? Don't make me laugh!", Face snorted, "Besides, the green monster would fit  
the evil part way better! But I refuse conning houses for some kind of glibber mass!" Seriously. Nobel Peace Prize was no joke in this case.  
Murdock eyeballed him for a short while and then turned back to Hannibal.  
"Colonel." Hannibal blinked at the seriousness that had crept in the pilots face. "What's the matter, Captain?"  
"I believe The Soap has brain-washed our friend. It has already begun!" Murdock whirled around again and took a deep breath.  
"See? He's totally smelling like The Soap! We _have_ to be careful!", he growled in his husky glibber monster voice.  
"What?! I'm not-! Okay, I am! But that's because I just showered! Of course I smell like soap! Besides, we all do! And I'm kinda glad for that one!",  
Face exclaimed and theatrically threw his hands in the air.  
"He has a point there, Captain.", Hannibal chuckled and continued reading his newspaper whereas Murdock dropped, obviously disappointed,  
on the sofa, muttering something like _'but don't come running afterwards, because I told you so'_.  
Face sighed – disaster hopefully averted – and smiled. It's been a while since they had a break like this and it was somewhat refreshing to just  
slouch on the couch doing nothing. Being on the run seemed like a better idea than spending time in prison but all the same it was kind of annoying.  
The last few days they had spent their share of sleep in the van, which was okay, but definitely not comfortable. Now, they simply were a film crew  
sleeping over at their directors house – who was conveniently busy overseas right now - preparing for the coming shots. Right.

It didn't take long for Face to doze off and by the time he jerked out of his not-quite-but-almost slumber he excused himself and went to sleep.  
After all it was dangerous to fall asleep in the open with pencils lying around and all that shit.  
Some time later, Hannibal left with his two teammates' eyes still glued to the TV and after the game was over, B.A. decided to hit the sack.  
A tad grumpier since the team he had rooted for had suffered a last-minute-defeat.

Murdock stared at the screen. Even though the fans were still screaming it had become rather quiet all of sudden. He tapped nervously to the beat  
of the victory anthem that was now playing on TV and desperately tried to fight the urge to sing along, as loud as he could and just for the hell of it.  
No, no, no can do. The others just went to bed so this was out of question. At least, the last few days, he'd had something to do.  
Taking over the driving for a few hours at night, volunteering for watch, folding airplanes out of Hannibal's newspaper...

His gaze shifted to the table where the Colonel had left this day's news. Yes, yes, maybe. Maybe later. He had all the time in the world, after all.  
That was great! GREAT! Because hey, there was so much to do! Saving the planet! Inventing a new language! Painting the moon in another color!  
Murdock's eyebrow twitched. It sucked. Four days in a row and he just wanted to sleep.  
Instead, he sat on a couch in the middle of the night and watched people trying to sell stuff on TV in a seemingly infinite loop.  
And before he knew what he was about to do, his hand had reached for the phone and he found himself calling the hilariously big number on screen.


	2. Day - Kitchen War

Still slightly drowsy, Face walked into the living room, mumbled a 'good morning' to Hannibal, who seemed to be lost in reading some kind of letter  
and Murdock, whose eyes were glued to the TV, watching this day's morning cartoon. From the outside sounded a muffled noise and he guessed  
it was B.A., wooing his beloved van. Okay, okay, 'repairing'. But he was sure there was some kind of romance involved because, seriously, that car  
was fucking **SACRED **to him.

Face yawned and strolled toward the bathroom. Better enjoy the calm atmosphere as long as lasts and-  
He stared into the bath, took a few steps backwards and closed the door. Then he opened it again and continued to stare. What.  
"...Hannibal... Is there any good reason for the mass invasion of _soap totems_ we have in here?", he asked carefully and glanced to the older man  
who was still busy reading. A whole lot of soap with carved in faces continued to stare at his back. At least that's what it felt like.  
"I'm not too sure myself but you better not bring this up with B.A.", the Colonel answered lightly,  
"I think the poor guy's had a small heart attack this morning." Face opened the mouth, then closed it again without saying a word and looked  
to the Captain who was still immersed in his cartoons.

"..._Murdock_?" Murdock peeked at him, seemingly troubled. "_What?_ I didn't do nothin'! It was on discount!", he chimed in.  
"As a matter of fact, I _warned_ you guys but no one would listen!", he creaked exasperated. Face gaped at him with an open mouth for a short while,  
thinking about whether it would be okay to laugh now, especially since he already heard Hannibal chuckle in the background – again – or  
whether this was a point where he should be concerned.  
"Don't worry, I thought it was a rather interesting surprise.", the Colonel grinned, puffing on his cigar. 'Interesting', right.  
Hell, that had potential for _nightmare fuel_ if done right! The older man had seemingly caught on to his expression.  
"Close your mouth, kid. There is enough food in the fridge so don't go fly fishing right there.", he snickered.  
"Uh, right...", Face answered and made his way to the fridge. "Oh and you better hurry since we're moving out in a couple of minutes."  
"_Whaaaaaaaat?_ But Hannibal-!" - "No 'buts', Lieutenant. You got ten minutes.", he smiled viciously and with this his attention had shifted back  
to pile of paper on the table.

"Oh, great, just great-!", Face murmured, slightly annoyed and started his high-speed ravage through the kitchen. _Screw those early birds!_

Fifteen minutes later he sat in some diner down the road with his team and some waitresses. Oh well, could be worse.  
The brunette smiled at them sweetly as she rushed through the kitchen. "Oh I'm SO glad you're here! Just yesterday, my uncle called  
and told me he had talked to some weird old guy with an even weirder accent and now, now you people are here and I can't quite believe it yet and-"  
She chuckled nervously and glanced at them. "Nobody else dares to lift a finger and I thought it was hopeless and now it's like a dream..."  
She blinked and laughed.

"But enough of that for now. May I offer you something? Tea? Coffee?"  
"Coffee, please." Face winked at her without missing a beat. Then he shot a look at Murdock who had been suspiciously silent the whole time.  
"Wanna get one too, buddy?", he laughed and playfully nudged his friend's shoulder - who jerked back, slightly startled, then stared at him,  
utterly horrified.

"Coffee? **COFFEE!?** What!? No way! _Noooooo_ way!" Murdock shook his head vehemently and lifted his hands protectively in front of his face.  
"Over my dead corpse! My dead, rotten, stinking, green turning-" - "Okay, okay, I _get_ it, man!", Face chimed in and prevented a potential horror novel  
by pressing his flat hand tightly against the pilots mouth. Who, of course, just had to lick it in protest of the sudden censorship.  
"Ewgh! Got'cha, coffee for me, no coffee for you.", he repeated, secretly relieved that while the pilot continued on his rant how coffee  
was the most evil thing right after 'The Soap', he didn't look as... miserable as he had looked a moment ago. But still... just now was kind of...  
Face's eyes narrowed as he watched his friend sporting his usual goofy grin, drowning B.A. in an ocean of words.  
"Quiet it already, crazy fool! This is a cup! There is no way a cup can talk, you understand?! The name on the cup is not the cup's name!"  
"Awwww- don't be like that, big guy... You're making her sad...", Murdock complained, protectively pressing his hands at the cup's sides,  
presumably where 'her' ears were supposed to be. "_'HER?!'_ It's a goddamn cup! Cups don't get sad!"  
Okay, maybe it had been his imagination. And thus, Face went back to complimenting the nice woman who had just brought him the highlight of the day.

Coffee. And her cups. D, probably.

Two seconds later, a loud clatter echoed through the diner. The pilot stared completely appalled to the floor. "**Emily!"**, he cried and hurried to 'her' side  
before turning to B.A.  
"What's your _problem_? She's done nothing wrong!" - "Don't go waving a half full cup at my face then, you fool!", the other man answered bluntly, yet,  
with an obviously guilt-stricken face.  
"Geez, still no reason to go trashing it.", Face sighed as he tried to calm down the pilot who was still overly upset about the tragic loss.  
Hannibal paused for a moment before turning again to their female client. "I'm sorry about this. Hopefully it wasn't some kind of important keepsake...",  
he grimaced.  
"Oh no, it's no problem, I'll just go get another one.", the woman smiled apologetically and disappeared in the back, missing out on Murdock's  
dramatic version of _'cannot be replaced'_.

This time, they got back rather late but there was no way the pilot would complain about that. Instead, he threw himself on his bed,  
face pressed into the cool sheets, and started counting pink sheep. He stopped several minutes later when the sheep began to grow  
wings and lizard heads.

"...just shoot me, _please_.", he murmured into his pillow, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Face was right next to him, searching for  
something in the countless drawers of this house.  
"...what? Murdock?" The conman shot him a slightly disturbed look. "You okay?" The pilot winced, however refusing to remove his head  
from the pillow or the other way round.  
"Looking good. The sheep. Looking better in green though.", Murdock mumbled absently without even bothering to think about what his  
friend was searching for in his drawers. If it was soap he wanted there was just enough sitting in the bathroom, waiting for exciting conversations.  
He knew what he was on about. Talked to soap half of the last night.

"Alright, I get it. I'm tired too, sorry 'bout this. Sleep well and stuff." And with that, he left the room, continuing his rampage in the kitchen,  
whatever the fuck he was actually looking for.  
Murdock turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. Nice color. White. Went really well with her hair and her dress. Which were also white.  
He silently named the ceiling 'Emily 2'.  
Again, some minutes – or hours, but whoever cared should raise a hand – a dull 'click' sounded from some other room and there was the silence again.  
And the pilot's eyes shot open right away. His nightlight buzzing some kind of song he didn't know, some shadows creeping up his wall and a second later  
he had fled his room.

"This is... this is... _RIDICULOUS_! **NOT.** That's not even _funny_ anymore!", he ranted while walking up and down in the brightly lit kitchen.  
Maybe he should just go and wake Face, ask him what he'd been looking for, organize a rescue party, get some dogs-  
But wait, maybe he wasn't 'looking for' but actually hiding something! Wanted to hide stuff in his drawers! No, no, no, Murdock, don't go there.  
He mentally slapped himself. CHRISTMAS PRESENTS! That's right! Only a few months to go anyway! Let's just downright ignore the fact we're pretty much  
switching houses every other day!  
Murdock looked up. The ceiling in the kitchen was white, too. Reminded him of something even though he couldn't put a finger on it right now.  
He absently opened the fridge, closed it, and repeated the procedure with pretty much anything that let him. Trash can, window, Tupperware,  
dishwasher, oven, salt cellar, cookie jar, what the hell did he even look for. Maybe that's what Face had felt like. Murdock stared at the cookie jar  
in his hands.

It was empty.


	3. Day - Hide And Seek

This time, it surely would be his turn to laugh. Face exited his room, smugly grinning. Now he had enough time for a good breakfast,  
a nice shower, morning coffee and his hair which had to be neglected the day before because of some cruel boss  
whose-name-shall-not-be-named right now. Alright, some hot water for the coffee and-  
"Oh, good morning Faceman." Face blinked. "Morning, Murdock, wha-" He blinked. "What's this."  
More of a statement than a question but a question nonetheless.  
The pilot followed his gaze. "Well, Face, that's a cookie. Never seen one?", the other taunted, giving him a mocking look.  
"What. No- no- I mean-" Face let out an exasperated sigh. "This, uh, this much?! Where are those from, anyway?!"  
The kitchen looked just like a battle field with crumb corpses all over the place.

Murdock's mocking grin spread only a tad wider. "Why, Face, don't you know? Santa Claus."  
"That's your answer?! Oh boy, now I'm not sure if I really want to know, now..."  
"Don't worry Face, just in case we don't manage to finish them up, we still got the big guy. No bad weather, I guarantee." His eyes darkened a bit.  
"He still owes me. I'm still somewhat angry - and I dare him to refuse my cookies."  
"B.A.'s not the cookie monster, Captain.", Hannibal chuckled. At least he did so until said person stepped out of his room with his own fair share  
of sweets in a bucket.  
"Or he is." B.A. looked downright confused and Face had to collect all of his conman abilities in order to not laugh out loud. He failed.  
But apart from the fact B.A consequently banned cookies from the van which was pretty much in conflict with Murdock's desire to spread his _crumble army_  
all across the world, they had managed to stick to the plan rather well this day. No broken cups. No casualties. At least, that's what he'd thought.

It only got worse.

After the rest of the team had gone sleeping, all that Murdock could do was wildly tossing around his bedsheets, either at least pretending to sleep,  
which didn't exactly help, thank-you-very-much or build a fortress from them. Didn't help much. Couldn't keep this weird things pretending to be shadows out.  
First he had tried to convince himself it was all in his head. Heck, that's what people had been trying to tell him _the last few years_ – which is why he wasn't  
exactly surprised when it didn't work.  
He tried to persuade them next, silently whispering. "Come on, we still got a hell lot of cookies... I'll weight up the big guys in cookies and hand 'em over, deal?  
Can't sell the big guy over, though, no selling friends over, ya know?", he chuckled in a hushed voice before giving up that one, too, and concentrating  
on his castle once more.

They were bad at climbing. He was sure of it now. Hiding in the closet had been pretty much useless, those wobbly things simply creeping through  
the door crack but they didn't stand a chance against ridiculously high objects such as... rooftops... trees... tax... some people's ego...  
Murdock groaned. That was great and everything but why did the roof have to be so goddamn cold?! Even with his whole bedding up there.  
Big bonus it didn't rain, though. Good job nature.  
A nearby rattle made him flinch. After holding his breath for nearly way too long, he decided the daring act of peeking beyond the blanket he was  
wrapped in – just in case... maybe something... learned how to climb or, even worse, _fly_.  
Okay, okay, okay, calm down. Something – a mantra – everything's good, nobody's here, no way, no way- Murdock abruptly turned his head,  
wide eyed, and stared.

Right. Into. B.A.'s face.

"_WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-!"_, the pilot screamed muffled into his cushion shield, frightened to death and nearly losing his balance in the process.  
A seemingly still half-asleep B.A. turned, startled, hit his head against the garret window before sagged back down onto his bed,  
leaving only Murdock close to hyperventilating outside.

God. _GOD_. Next time, _NEXT TIME_, he would SO go for the fucking _tree_!


	4. Day - Desperate Measures

Face peeked out of his room, scanning the whole area before finally stepping out. It seemed so... calm. _Suspiciously_ so.  
He gazed at Hannibal who was reading today's newspaper like some old guy in the corner, then at B.A. who was busy with his breakfast  
and finally at Murdock, who sat motionless on a chair, staring out of the window.  
"...good morning...?", Face tried, cautiously. B.A. shot him a look. "Ain't nothing good about this morning. My head hurts like it had to  
stop a freakin' train all on its own.", he grumbled. The pilot bit his lip.  
"Wow, that positive vibe I get in this room is utterly _astonishing_.", Face remarked, right before he turned to Murdock, pretty much expecting him  
to brighten the room with a wide grin.

It didn't come.

"What, you too? Did I miss something...?", he chuckled nervously and shot Hannibal, who had been warily watching the pilot and his current mood,  
a worried glance.  
"Something out there, buddy?", he finally asked, trying to keep up a spontaneous tone. "Watching someone?"  
Murdock slowly inclined his head. A bit too slow, for his taste.  
"I'm not watching, muchacho... I'm waiting." The pilot broke off an snickered quietly. Face opened his mouth to voice his concern –  
and that was ignoring the fact his friend was wearing a bed sheet as cape – when the door bell rang, announcing the arrival of their client  
and reminding him that he had still wanted to shower before leaving.

When he came back, all he heard was something along "-and would anyone of you guys mind telling me why your house's rooftop is covered in bed sheets?"  
Murdock stopped his absent humming for a second and turned to the woman. "Maybe it was feeling cold?", he offered halfheartedly  
and went back to watching- waiting for whoever- whatever.

By now, Face was seriously worried.

After having a talk with Hannibal, they'd both agreed, that their not-quite-sane teammate had been somewhat off the other day  
and Face volunteered, to keep an eye on him.  
Granted, when the next night arrived, Murdock found himself sitting on the couch again, watching old black and white horror movie reruns.  
Only _this time_, Face seemed to refuse going to bed and sat right next to him, throwing an undefinable glance at the pilot every now and then.  
Okay, good. Murdock could play this game. "What's up Face, wanna do a movie marathon with me or what?"  
He tried his best but couldn't prevent a slight tone, hinting at his more-than-just-a-little-bit annoyed state.  
Face eyed him warily. "...sure, sounds fun... I guess. Whoever falls asleep first loses...?"  
The pilot snorted. Right. Good plan, Faceman. Best plan _ever_. "You're on." He could only guess but he assumed the conman had been assigned  
to the task of guarding the house from any other bed sheet migrations. Murdock glanced nervously to the window. Even without looking anywhere else,  
he could feel weird creatures lurking under the couch, creeping out of corners, waiting for the right moment.  
He peeked to Face. Come on Faceman, you don't want to do this. Just go to bed. Go to sleep, Face... Can't do nighttime superhero business like that,  
the movie is boring, switching channels would be worse though because who knows what they're selling this night, agh-

Maybe he could sneak out. Murdock jumped out of his seat.

Face's head snapped round in his direction instantly. "Where are you going?", he asked cautiously.  
"Bathroom.", came the pilots curt answer as he fled the living room and locked himself in the bath.

By now, _everything_ was annoying. The way the light hummed silently through the room, yet _drilling_ right through his head –  
but if he turned it off there would be nothing but darkness which again sucked, too. Just do something- keep your mind busy. Take a bath, maybe.  
Drown the headache in it and pretend to be a nocturnal duck so Face  
He glared at the bathtub which was halfway filled with excess cookies. Stupid cookies destroying his genius plans. Also, _screw_ those soap faces.  
They didn't exactly help with his steadily more and more vivid growing imagination. Couldn't he just knock himself out or something?  
Just- there- edge of bathtub- nobody will know- will look like an accident, right, right-  
Murdock stared at the edge. But hell, this would fucking _hurt_. No way he was going to do that.

The pilot exited the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Face's head shot up once again, a slightly perplexed expression spread over his face.  
"Murdock, what-" - "Don't you see I have my planning-mastermind-face on right now?!", the pilot screamed in exasperation and dropped back on the couch,  
nervously nibbling on his fingernails.  
The conman shut his mouth abruptly and held up his hands in defense. "Uh, okay, okay, sorry man, won't interrupt your... planni-" -  
"Nocturnal duck world domination planning.", Murdock chimed in, still visibly upset. - "Right, this. Sorry again." And with that, the room went silent again,  
leaving Face to his growing concerns and Murdock to his growing agitation.

The next day, Face awakened with a big black edding mustache.

* * *

Maybe it was the way, the helicopter moved unsteadily through the air, narrowly missing some trees, stuttering through the air in a way, Face was pretty  
sure it was, for once, not on purpose. Maybe it was the white knuckles of his friend or the seemingly desperate expression, slowly creeping on the pilot's face.

"You look like crap, buddy.", Face finally said, sitting in the co-pilot seat of the chopper while transporting some explosive goodies for their client.  
Murdock winced. "Now, adding 'buddy' to the end still doesn't make it nice, you know? How _dare_ you say that kind of thing to ol' good looking me..."  
His voice trailed off. Eyes concentrated on the instruments, hands clenched around the pilot stick. No weird accents. No singing.

All alarm sirens ringing now.

"Stop. Get down."

"So, yes, maybe, just-", Murdock pressed through clenched teeth, "What the _hell_, Faceman? _'Stop'_?! Remember going to the toilet _beforehand_, geez-!"  
Face decided to ignore the last part. "You got that right! You land that chopper _right now_ or else I'm taking those parachutes, you, set the bird on fire  
and watch it _explode_-!"

Murdock stared at him with a horrified expression which could have bee hilarious if it wasn't for the situation.

The pilot gulped. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"  
"_Dare me._" One day of work more or less didn't matter anymore. "We're halfway through. Won't finish this night either way."  
"Why, Face, didn't know you were such a party pooper...", Murdock mumbled, but hit the controls and got the chopper back down, anyway,  
oblivious to the alarmed look, Face had shot the other two who were already running towards to the decelerating chopper.

Murdock sat in the pilot's seat, head dropped forward, breathing heavily, trying to concentrate on something that didn't exist.  
"Good job there, buddy." Face tried, growing more and more anxious. "If you ask me, now would be the perfect time for a break.  
Tomorrow is another day and-"  
"_-that shall never change-_", the pilot hummed before glancing at his friend. "No can do, muchacho.", the pilot answered with sad eyes.  
"No can do... Gotta fend off evil, ya know? That's night business. Ain't seeing any superheroes at daytime, do you now?" He tried for a bright grin  
but all it turned out to be was a weak smile.  
With Hannibal and B.A. having arrived at the landing field, all three men stared at him in unison. "Okay, what's eatin' ya, fool." B.A. gazed at him disapprovingly  
as Hannibal reached forward to grip the pilot's shoulder.  
"Captain." His voice as stern as always but one could easily recognize a hint of worry below.  
"You look really exhausted. Maybe it'd be for the best to call it a day for now so you can catch some sleep."

"No.", Murdock answered. - "..._'no'_? Why not?", the Colonel asked slowly.  
"Because it's **IMPOSSIBLE!**", he screamed and helplessly threw his hands in the air.  
"I'm tellin' you, he HATES me! _Absolutely_! So I want to go to bed but there is no way he will let me and I try to keep quiet but then it's too quiet,  
WAY too quiet, driving me **NUTS** and those things-" He gesticulated wildly, nearly hitting B.A., "-those things just turn up and I _don't know what to do_  
so I just try to get out of the way but it's IMPOSSIBLE because they'll just go through the walls and I can't be bothered to think up a useful strategy  
because my head is _KILLING_ me-!"

Murdock gasped for air.

"Okay, that's it, we're going back.", a wide-eyed Face stated as a matter of fact and dragged his friend out of the chopper.  
"**NO!** No-no-no-no-no-no-nooooooo-! Not back, the air is safe, nooooo-!", the pilot protested weakly, clenching tightly onto the seat belt.  
Seconds later he lost his grip and dropped exhausted in his friends' arms, finally giving in to the darkness.


	5. Day - Rewind, Unwind

Murdock squinted his eyes as he tried to get a sharp picture. Oh, why, hello there, Emily 2.  
He tried to ignore the still present throbbing pain in his head, struggling to an upright position but got shoved back down on... the bed...?  
The pilot blinked once again, finally recognizing the Colonel's face.  
"Uh, good morning? Did I oversleep? Sorry 'bout this, guys.", he chuckled, still feeling as exhausted as ever.  
"_'Sleep'?!_ More like 'dropped dead and _freaked the hell out of us_'!", Face cried out from behind.  
"Yeah, well, I figured I didn't really sleep since I still like someone blew up my chopper with me inside.", Murdock shrugged before he jolted up,  
wide-eyed, staring at the conman.

"You- you didn't really do that, right? You wouldn't, right?!" Face carefully nudged his shoulder and pushed him back into the pillows.  
"Of course not, geez! -" Then Hannibal cut in. "So, Murdock, mind telling us what's wrong? This one gave us quite a scare."  
"Scarier than the time we had to escape from a crumbling military platform with that one-winged plane?", the pilot grinned tiredly.  
"Don't remind me of that one, Captain.", the older man said firmly, "And _don't_ remind B.A. He still doesn't know the whole story about that one."  
Murdock chuckled weakly. Which, of course, didn't keep his friends from waiting for an answer.  
"So...?", Face finally pushed, much to the pilots chagrin. "What is it, buddy, _come on_, I'm really worried there... Nightmares? Something with your meds?  
Angry at someone? Aw, come on, B.A. didn't mean it... Even volunteered to finish the loading with his van.  
Should be here anytime soon, now that I think about it."

"'m not angry at the big guy, Faceman... Just..." Murdock shifted uncomfortably in the bed. "You know-" - "No, we _don't_, Captain." The pilot winced. Right.  
"I can't sleep.", he finally admitted, visibly distressed. Hannibal waited patiently. "'Can't sleep' because...?"

Murdock snapped. "**NO!** No _'because'_! I. Just. _Can't._ Sleep!", he cried out.  
Slightly taken aback, there was a moment of silence in the room until Face whispered "Oh boy, should have told me this before that bet..."  
as he rubbed across his upper lip.  
"This is no laughing matter, Lieutenant.", the older man reminded. "I know Hannibal, I know...", he sighed, "I'm just glad it's not some kind of exotic fatal  
illness...", he then added silently.  
"Awww- Faceman, no worries. Crazy people don't catch exotic illnesses.", the pilot chimed in with a weak chuckle. Face gave him a worried smile.  
"Yeah, sure thing." Then he tilted his head. "You know, if you had trouble falling asleep, you just should have _said_ so. Pretty sure I could organize  
some magic pill for your daily share of beauty sleep."  
The pilot shook his head. And instantly regretted it. Ugh, headache, what a bummer.  
"No can do." Besides, he was already good looking enough, wasn't he? _Really, Face._ Twenty demerits.  
"I assume this might be a bad idea since we don't know whether it would interfere with one of the other meds." Hannibal thoughtfully stroke his chin.  
Murdock blinked tiredly. Yeah, that was the other point. Good point.  
Face looked at him with furrowed brows, mouthing _'other meds?'_ but didn't speak up. Instead, he ran his fingers through his hair and cleaned his throat.  
"Well, hell, what to do? You definitely have to sleep. What, uh, what now? Should I read a book to you?"  
The Colonel seemed to try his best not to laugh at that remark.  
The pilot on the other hand, just had a slightly annoyed, mocking glance left. "Yeah, no way. I've had enough of bedtime stories." The conman blinked.

"Huh?!"

"What, Faceman, don't you know the _stories_?", Murdock whispered in a hushed voice that caused the conman to raise an eyebrow. "'The stories'?" -  
"Yes, yes, yes, you know, about how you shouldn't stay up for too long because else they'll come and get you...", he explained conspiratorially.

"_Nobody's_ coming to get you, you fool.", B.A. grumbled as he tamped through the door, a plastic bag in one hand a carton filled with food in the other one.  
Meanwhile, Hannibal's eyes had adopted a slightly amused glint. "Captain, are you, by any chance, talking about some kind of folklore?"

"Yeah, yeah, right, stupid tiny creatures throwing sand into your eyes-" The older man shot him an odd look. B.A. stared, slightly confused,  
before he snapped out of it and put the box on the table and threw the plastic bag into the pilot's lap.  
Murdock halted and eyed the unknown flying object while B.A. turned to the other two men.  
"Hannibal, this ain't no time for fairy tales. I heard some sirens down the road and I reckon it's some foolish police squad.", he snorted  
and shot the other three an disapproving look as in _'feel-like-I-should-mention-this-as-I'm-obviously-the-only-sane-man-in-here'._

The Colonel looked up. "We should hurry up, then. Quiet poking the plastic bag, Captain, it's time to leave." Face stared at him in disbelief.  
"Awwww- but _Hannibal_! We finally had nice beds and a shower! _Hot water_, Hannibal!" - "Five minutes, _Lieutenant_." And with this, Face jumped  
and ran off to collect his stuff in a hurry while the rest left for the van, carefully observing Murdock as he staggered down the stairs, nearly tripped  
out of the door if not for B.A.'s reflexes who had grabbed him by the sleeve just in time.  
Somehow, in the end, they all managed to get into the car and fled from the approaching sirens, leaving nothing but a thankful family and frustrated policemen.

"Face! Look, Face! The big guy's got me a new Emily! She's reborn! It's a _miracle_!", the pilot squealed overjoyed and happily waved around  
the new cup that had been wrapped in the plastic bag.  
"I see it, buddy. She's a beauty.", Face grinned.  
"Be careful with that cup in my van, crazy fool!", B.A. warned loudly, warily observing the spontaneous festival mood in the back in the rear-view mirror.  
"Awwww, B.A. ... You just don't want her to break and Murdock all depressed again...", Face grinned smugly. The other man snorted.  
"Oh no, _not_ you, too! There is _no_ 'her'! This is a goddamn _cup_ and nothin' else!" If Face hadn't known any better, he would have easily missed  
the soft smile in between those angry objections.

Murdock leaned against his shoulder and grinned. "Oh, no worries, we know you love us, big guy. No reason to be ashamed."  
Probably much to B.A.'s chagrin all three men were now smugly grinning as a wave of comfortable silence passed through the car.

All three men blinked in unison as it dawned upon them. "He's _asleep_.", Face confirmed after a while and they breathed a sigh of relief.  
Hannibal glanced cautiously to the back. "No wrong moves, kid. Waking him up now is pretty close to a mortal sin, I reckon." Face froze.  
"Uh, yes. I sure hope breathing is still okay, though." - "Go ahead. Your responsibility.", the older man grinned, leaned back into the seat  
and lit one of his cigars. "Don't we love it when a plan comes together?"

Face smiled as he listened to his friend's even breathing who abused his shoulder as pillow. The van rattled across the bumpy road, leaving a slim cloud  
of dust behind. Hannibal had decided to give up on searching for his newspaper and studied the map instead. B.A. hummed silently some kind of tune.  
Face closed his eyes. It was silent. But a good kind of silence.

The next day, Murdock woke up in the late afternoon with a big black edding mustache on his upper lip.

_Two weeks later the director returned to his house and found a mass of soap totems and cookies in his bathroom.  
Needlessly to say, he was somewhat crept out._


End file.
